


That's What Brothers Do

by Sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr



Series: Sherlock and Mycroft Fluff [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Big Brother Mycroft, Gen, M/M, Spanking, Top Greg, Top John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 06:46:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5324453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt:</p><p>In youth, Mycroft and Sherlock would occasionally (very occasionally) join forces to create mischief of BIBLICAL proportions. The kind that get most people arrested.<br/>Present day, they deliberately or accidentally do so again (bonus if it involves explosions and fire).<br/>Afterwards, Sherlock doesn't hate Mycroft quite so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's What Brothers Do

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【授权翻译】That’s What Brother’s Do](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6709390) by [HailTheTranslationParty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HailTheTranslationParty/pseuds/HailTheTranslationParty)



Sherlock stomped up the stairs to Mycroft's office and swung the door open. It hit the next wall with a loud clank.

“What part of silence does not compute with you brother-mine?” Mycroft hissed from his desk.

Sherlock, his Belstaff wrapped tightly about him, plunked himself down in the chair opposite his brother's desk. For added cheek, he propped his feet up on the corner of said desk. “Oh, brother dear, no one would dare hear anything in your office. You would have them killed.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgement. “True. But I'm assuming you stomped and sulked the whole way through the club. My club… not just my office.”

“Well, there is that. Those dried up old prunes did glare something fierce.” Sherlock had to move, he was full of restless energy. He dropped his feet to the floor, sprang up and started pacing. “I don’t know why you put up with them.”

“I don't really 'put up with them' I spend most of my time in here.” He clasped his hands together and then leant forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “What is the matter, little brother? John ignoring you now he's got a new job?”

Sherlock glared. “John does not ignore me. I just haven't spoken to him recently.”

Mycroft tilted his head back and looked down his patrician nose at his brother, considering. There was a developing situation that Sherlock should find interesting, though it would require them to work together. It should appeal to his reckless side, though, as it would call for creativity of a sort that the brother’s hadn’t exercised in ages. “Do you recall the incident with the shed when we were young?”

Sherlock paused in his pacing and turned on his brother. “You mean when I blew it up and you took the blame?”

“You were 4, Sherlock, do you really think I had no part to play?”

The younger Holmes crinkled his nose at the notion he had never required his brother's help for anything. He may have allowed him to help, though.

“And now you're thinking you allowed me to help. I didn't leave my chemistry set in a place I knew you would look for no reason little brother. I knew what you had planned.”

Sherlock chuckled in grudging acknowledgement of his brother’s words. “It was rather spectacular, wasn’t it? Between the fire and everything being splashed with acid, Mummy was quite cross. You weren’t able to sit for a week.”

“I think it was more the fact I let you, than what you had done.”

“What you had done.”

Mycroft smiled warmly for the first time in what felt like forever.

“You were too young to be looking after me, Mycroft.”

“Oh, Sherlock. I started looking after you the day you were born.” Mycroft's voice had gone oddly soft.

Both men blinked, then looked away from each other, slightly embarrassed at the inadvertent show of sentiment.

“Anyway,” Sherlock cleared his throat, “I am extremely bored. If the situation you were contemplating earlier is sufficiently interesting, I might consider looking into it.”

The government official had recovered his composure. “Even though it will require both of us?”

Sherlock smirked. “It could be fun, if I can blow something up.”

“Oh, Sherlock I am positive you can blow something up. Question is, shall we phone John?”

The detective's line of sight shot to the door and back to his brother. “No. I'm sure I can endure your company for a while.”

Mycroft grimaced. “Charming, as always, Sherlock.” He leaned forward once again, laying his palms on his desktop. “An exchange of critical information is scheduled to occur in just a few hours. What is needed is a diversion, but the operatives will be expecting that, so we’ll need to create a diversion from the diversion.”

“So we both get to blow things up? How about Downing Street and Buckingham palace that'll be a diversion.”

“No, Sherlock, no! We are not blowing up the two most important buildings in the country for you to have your fun, we need to think more creatively.”

Sherlock huffed. “Boring.” He brightened. “How about New Scotland Yard? That would be fun, though you would probably want to warn Lestrade first.” He pouted. “Pity.”

“Sherlock!” Mycroft admonished, “That’s my boyfriend you are talking about.”

The detective’s smile was wicked. “I know.”

“You know… since when?”

“Since always. You're so lovey-dovey around him it makes me feel ill.”

“That's nothing compared to what you're like with John.”

Those words were enough for Sherlock’s tongue to make an appearance. If he had had his violin, he would have been making it screech. “John and I are not lovey-dovey.”

“Whatever brother-mine, now The Yard is an interesting place to start…”

“We could do it and not warn Lestrade.”

“Really Sherlock, He’s the only DI that will work with you willingly.”

“Okay,” the younger Holmes crossed his arms, “but we’re not warning Anderson or Donovan. Maybe they’ll get themselves blown up.”

“No one is getting 'blown up'.” Mycroft sighed. “Precautions will have to be put in place against that.”

“You take the fun out of everything, Mycie.”

“I have to. If anything happened to Gregory's colleagues, he would never let it go. He would give me hell.”

Sherlock grinned. “That's reason enough.”

Mycroft smiled back, he did enjoy seeing his brother smile, not that he would admit that or anything. “Glad you care, little brother.” His tone wasn't teasing though, quite the opposite, in fact. “That would be preferable, the budget isn’t limitless, after all.” Mycroft pondered. “We’ve yet to determine the nature of the second diversion.”

“As much as I hate to say it, we should probably keep it comparatively low-key.” Sherlock made a moue of distaste at that. “There will be a number of emergency responders and quite a bit of chaos. An automobile accident involving an ambulance and a number of cars should suffice.”

“How is an ambulance and a number of cars low key, Sherlock?”

“Compared to bombing The Yard, I would say that's pretty low-key. What about that section that no one uses anymore?”

“What section?”

Sherlock froze, there was something his big brother didn't know… this has the potential to be disastrous.

“Lestrade knows I know… about the two of you… and I made a promise to John that I would stay away from drugs…”

“Go on, Sherlock,” there was an under layer of a threat there now.

“When he catches me doing something I… shouldn't be doing, he takes me to this building to talk… so we won't be interrupted. He keeps you and John out of it.”

Mycroft felt as if there were a fist gripping his heart and squeezing. 'Doing something' could mean any number of things, it didn’t have to mean the worst. His next words came out sharp with dread, “Are you trying to tell me that Gregory has been hiding your drug use? If so, I don’t believe it.”

“What? No!” Sherlock shook his head vigorously. “But there have been cases where I had to contact my old suppliers and once, I had to pretend to be using again.” He barked a laugh. “Lestrade was decidedly not happy.” The memory was enough to make even Sherlock cringe. “There was a time John was at work and I was with Dimmock… I did something slightly not good and Lestrade intervened.”

Mycroft filed this away for later. “This conversation will be repeated Sherlock, that I promise you, but for now, what building do you mean?”

“Can you get hold of the blueprints for New Scotland Yard?”

A brief call to Anthea and just a few minutes resulted in the blueprints being spread across Mycroft's desk. Sherlock flipped through them, finally stopping and jabbing a finger at a point on one of the pages.

“Well, it should be there.”

“Should be?”

“Well, it's clearly not. Maybe it wasn’t originally meant to be part of the building ano for some reason never added to this when it was?”

Mycroft frowned. “Perhaps. Sketch it in for me.”

Grabbing a pen, Sherlock quickly modified the blueprints to reflect the reality that was stored in his Mind Palace. “That's it. Just as I recall.”

“I'll trust your memory over old blueprints any day.”

The corner of Sherlock’s mouth quirked up. “A compliment, Mycie?”

Mycroft gave him a cool smile, but his eyes twinkled incongruously. “A mere statement of fact, brother dear.”

Sherlock huffed.

“And since when did you call me Mycie again?”

“I didn't,” but Sherlock denied it too quickly for even him to believe. His head dipped slightly. “Since I realised that maybe you're not quite as much of an arse as I thought.”

“I'll take that as a compliment, Lock, backhanded as it was.” Mycroft deliberately used his brother's own childhood nickname.

The look Sherlock gave him was priceless. He contemplated offering a deal, if I don't use your nickname you can't use mine, but he changed his mind and smiled instead. It was nice, the way things were right now, a lot better than when he turned up at Baker Street. Sherlock always felt the need to put on a show, even if John wasn't around.

“So what do you think of this little car accident?”

“Should be easy enough, they perform accidents for the television without casualties all the time, with my contacts it should be easy.”

They leant in, heads close together and started planning. As soon as one detail fell into place, the next followed. It reminded Sherlock of the incident with the lizard and the rat. Now that had been exceedingly entertaining. This might be just as much fun if he let it.

***

As predicted the ambulance hit the police car which then collided into a number of other vehicles, including a bus, 9 blocks from New Scotland Yard. No one was hurt, which was also planned.

The chemical bomb went off at NSY just as planned, causing large scale chaos and mayhem for miles. This was having the desired effect.

As further predicted the news crews and journalists flocked to each disaster simultaneously the conversation going on in parliament no longer of vital importance and in fact boring in comparison.

Both Mycroft and Sherlock sat in the back of a white Transit their feet propped up as they laughed and pointed at the screens. One showed the CCTV pointing at NSY the other showed CCTV covering the accident, of course Mycroft had chosen places where the coverage was decent and therefore easy to follow. Easy entertainment.

However, what wasn't predicted was the back door to the Transit swinging open where two very pissed off men stood waiting.

One DI and one doctor.

“It’s a pretty picture, innit?” Greg asked, tongue in cheek.

John’s nostrils flared and he gave a little shrug of one shoulder. There was nothing of the doctor in his stance, it was pure Captain John Watson. “Oh, yeah. Lovely. Two patrician delinquents setting off a stink bomb and watching the plebes scramble for cover. Very nice.”

“John… before you start-”

“Before I start…!” He yelled, he reached in, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pulling him struggling from the van a cut of “Myc-” was all that he offered.

“Don't even try and talk yourself out of this one, Sherlock! If this was legit, Greg and I would have known!”

Greg folded his arms and glared at Mycroft. “Now are you going to come out willingly or do I need to grab you like the insufferable prat, you are?”

Mycroft grimaced, then climbed out sheepishly. “Ah, you and John are more effective than any governmental oversight committee could ever hope to be.” He caught Sherlock's gaze, he wasn't looking overly comfortable. John was holding him at about his own shoulder height, which meant for Sherlock it was considerably lower. He wasn't surprised when his own boyfriend grabbed the collar of his suit and began dragging him towards the waiting cop car. He doubted they were heading to the station, though, no their boyfriends would want them somewhere private for this.

In the back of the car, Mycroft and Sherlock exchanged looks that they hadn't used in years. Their looks clearly said, 'We're in this together. They can't break us. We'll never talk.' Mummy and Father had been unable to break their unholy alliances in the past. They both doubted that John and Greg would fare much better.

Of course, they would be proven wrong.

“Out,” was the first thing that was hissed into the back of the car when it had stopped and John's hand appeared. Of course, once again Sherlock's collar was grabbed and he was removed bodily from the vehicle. Mycroft slid out of the other side as quickly as he could manage while Greg turned the engine off and got out of the driver's side. The look the DI pinned him with meant trouble.

Mycroft tried to look like a man wronged, but it wasn't working on Greg, not one jot more than Sherlock's innocent look was doing on John. He thought to try reason, “Gregory, you had fair warning to vacate The Yard. I don't really see the problem. No one was endangered. We saw to that.”

“You don't- you don't see the problem?” The DI paused and shook the British Government.

“What is the big deal?” Sherlock asked from his bent over position.

“What's the...” Greg repeated. “God, John. He can't be serious.”

John laughed, dark and sinister. “This is Sherlock you're talking about. Of course he's serious.” He shook his head. “What gets me is, Mycroft seems to agree. He's supposed to be the responsible one.”

“It was his idea!” Sherlock growled. “And anyway, no one got hurt, sadly, Mycroft assured that.”

“Have you seen the state of The Yard, now?”

“What does that matter?!”

“How are we supposed to get anything done?! The place is a shambles.” Greg's voice had grown even louder.

Sherlock mumbled something unintelligible.

John gave him a little shake. “What was that?”

Feeling very put upon, the younger Holmes repeated, “As if you ever get anything done.” That statement earned him not two glares, but three. “Mycroft, pick a side!” He snarled.

“Are you going to explain exactly what your little play time achieved?” Greg snapped in the British Government's ear.

Mycroft glanced at his brother, he was right, they were in this together. He met his boyfriend's eye and then shook his head slightly keeping his mouth shut. Mycroft's silence brought a smug smile to Sherlock's face. The detective actually felt a warm glow at the fraternal solidarity. John noted Sherlock's expression and leant in to whisper into Greg's ear.

Eyes widening in understanding, the DI nodded. His boyfriend's entire purpose had been to bring him closer to his brother. Anything else that had been accomplished was purely secondary. “You may be right, John, but we still can't let them get away with something like this.”

“May be right?” Sherlock asked. “Right about what?”

“Something that doesn't concern you,” Greg snapped. “Now, seeing as I had to leave the Yard in a hurry my keys are in my coat.” He spun Mycroft around by the collar and then pushed his hand into his inside pocket, searching for his set of keys.

Once inside, John propelled Sherlock towards one corner of the living room and Greg led Mycroft to the other. They hadn't even planned it, it just seemed the thing to do with the guilty parties.

“Stay there,” the doctor said to the back of Sherlock's head, “at least until we figure out what to do with you two.” He turned and looked at the DI. “Greg?”

They stepped out into the hallway to discuss their troubled boyfriends.

Immediately Sherlock turned around. “It's just like we're kids again.”

Mycroft's hands covered his arse instinctive and Sherlock laughed. “Don't worry Mycie, John wouldn't dare.”

“John might not, but Gregory would,” Mycroft spoke, but he didn't turn around.

When John and Greg returned, Mycroft's spine stiffened. He knew what was coming, even if his brother didn't. The sound of Sherlock muttering, “Oh, bugger,” told the government official that his brother had, in fact, figured it out. Neither of them would be sitting easy for quite some time.

“What part of 'stay there' did not compute, Sherlock?”

Mycroft could imagine his baby brother spinning back around into the corner.

“Well, Mycroft, seeing as you did as you were told you get a choice.”

The British Government swallowed with some difficulty.

“I'm sure you've both deduced the general nature of what is about to happen,” Greg's tone was stern, “but the Devil is in the details, as they say. So, Mycroft. Would you like 40 strokes with a paddle on your bare arse? Or...” Here he paused for effect. “Would you prefer the number to be reduced to 20 using my hand while your brother watches?”

Mycroft screwed his eyes shut, that was one hell of a decision.

“Turn around.”

The first place he looked was his brother in the corner, his hands stuffed into his trouser pockets as he rocked forward on his toes.

“This is stupid, all we did was-” Sherlock was cut off when the doctor's hand jerked up and grabbed him by the nape of his neck, pushing him headfirst back into the wall.

Based on John's obvious anger and Sherlock's continued insistence on misbehaving, Mycroft was fairly certain that his brother wouldn't be given the same choice. If Sherlock were spanked while Mycroft watched, his brother would be well and truly humiliated. Sherlock might not speak to him for months, which was the opposite of what this whole scenario had meant to accomplish. Unless... He let his shoulders drop. “20 strokes with your hand, please, while Sherlock watches.”

“Very well.”

John's fist clenched and Sherlock choked slightly as the collar of his shirt was tugged upwards. “Now you are going to watch this,” John hissed low in his ear, “and if you so much as breathe out of place you'll know about it, are we clear?”

Sherlock growled.

“Are we clear?” He pulled his detective away from the room so his head fell back onto his shoulder.

“Yes, John.”

“Good.”

By the time they were done, Mycroft was lain over the DI's lap, his underwear down to his thighs and his shirt tails up. Sherlock could clearly see the clenched jaw of his brother and felt guilty. He didn't know why, this really had all been Mycroft's idea. He watched his older brother with pride as Greg landed the first smack.

Blow after blow fell down and the clenched jaw turned to the biting of his bottom lip. On any other day Mycroft might have enjoyed this, but his cock certainly wasn't responding. On 15 Sherlock intervened. “Stop, Lestrade, stop, this was my fault.” He soon found himself yanked back by his doctor.

Greg's hand froze in mid-air. At the same time, Mycroft objected loudly, “No, Sherlock! It was my fault.”

“I came to you, Mycie. I was bored. It was my fault.”

“Well, you hardly forced me to ask for your help.”

“Quiet!” John yelled, then raised his hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. “God, you two sound just like me and Harry.”

Sherlock tensed at that, he knew his lover's relationship with his sister wasn't great.

“Alright, you brat,” John growled. “Greg will stop if you have 40 with the paddle and Mycroft watches.”

Sherlock gaped, his mouth hanging open like a fish. John had to be insane! Why would he subject himself to something like that? He glanced at his brother and saw the look of worry on his face, then the little shake of Mycroft's head. Worse, he heard his brother's words from earlier in the day, Oh, Sherlock. I started looking after you the day you were born. “Fine. I agree.”

“Sherlock!” Mycroft yelled.

“It's my turn, Mycie, to do the looking after.” He smiled sadly. It wasn't like he was going to prison or something, he could cope with this, he had as a child… well, it had almost been as bad.

“Up you get Mycroft.” Greg softly ran his hand through his hair.

John took the seat that the DI had just vacated and without argument Sherlock lowered himself over the doctor's knees. He held his breath waiting for the inevitable.

Except…

It didn't come. What did though was John somehow manoeuvring his boy around on his lap and hugging him tight. “You would really take that…”

The look the doctor got from Sherlock was completely blank. The detective went offline for a full 15 seconds, trying to process. When his brain kicked back in, he could only respond with, “Of course. That's what brother's do.”


End file.
